“Why be dull?”
He slid into bed beside her, pulled her into his arms and Kett relaxed there for a moment, enjoying the feel of his body, his face and hands cold from being outside, his heart thumping against her chest.
Then she pulled away, annoyed with herself for liking it too much.
“I’m really tired,” she said.
“Me too. Dear gods, I wanted to kill those three little fuckers.”
She smiled despite herself and Bael rolled against her, his body warm and hard against her back, and his lips brushed her neck.
“I said-”
“I heard. I’m not trying to shag you, Kett, that was a goodnight kiss.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and snuggled her against him, and she told herself she could enjoy it for one more night.
She woke for the third morning running with Bael’s arms around her. He was solid, warm, his breathing even. And he didn’t snore.
On his body there were small scars, some fine and neat like surgical cuts, others curved, jagged and messy. One or two looked like arrow or crossbow-bolt scars, and she remembered how he’d been shot in Xinjiang by the kelf he’d attacked.
Stupid man. Why attack a kelf? They couldn’t be harmed and they lived to serve anyway. It was like shooting at a horse wearing armor. Cruel and pointless. All right, so Nasc and kelfs didn’t get on, but did he really hate them that much?
She moved away from him carefully, quietly, not especially pleased that this had become one of her talents. Of course, it was easier when you were a shapeshifter, but bloody depressing to realize she’d woken up next to so many men she wanted to get away from.
Pulling on her clothes, old jeans and a clean shirt, she looked back at Bael, sleeping there so peacefully. He looked really beautiful with those dark lashes and the stubble dusting his jaw. Great jaw, she thought, great cheekbones. Great shoulders, great chest…hell, everything about him was great.
Except that he was a complete nutcase. He beat up kelfs and he scared the dragons, and he thought she was his fucking mate, for gods’ sake. He’d been thrown out of Nihon for something he couldn’t even remember, which wasn’t a great sign. How many indiscretions had he committed if he forgot the details?
No. He might be great in bed, but Kett had had “great in bed” before, and it hadn’t been good enough for a lasting relationship. And she didn’t want a lasting relationship, dammit!
If he knew what she could do, he’d take it as a sign they should be together. That it was fate. And Kett believed in signs and fate like she believed in leprechauns.
If Chance hadn’t fallen for Dark, she’d never had ended up with a sword through her back, fighting to free his sister last year. If King Talis and his wife hadn’t been so in love, the queen wouldn’t have sacrificed herself to save the people he loved all those years ago. If Striker hadn’t fallen for Chalia-well, thousands of people would still be alive and the city of Vaticano wouldn’t still be half-ruined.
Kett regarded the man sleeping in her bed.
Her leg felt stiff, in need of exercise, so she headed toward the gardens, intending to change her shape and go for a run. It was still early and the only people up and about were the servants, an annoying number of whom curtseyed and bowed to her.
As she passed Tane’s room, one of the maids left with a basket of wood and fire-lighting materials. Kett paused. “Is he awake?”
The maid nodded and curtseyed. “Yes, my lady.”
Kett tapped on Tane’s door, intending to ask if he’d escorted Giselle home last night, and planning to rip him a new one if he hadn’t. She knocked then pushed the door open.
“Are you-
A sudden flurry of movement didn’t quite manage to disguise Giselle as she ducked under the covers, and Tane tried to look innocent despite the girl-shaped bump next to him.
“Morning,” Kett said, and while her mouth was still, she knew Tane could see the laughter in her eyes. “Morning, Giselle.”
Sheepishly, the girl peeped out, her face pink, and gave a rather unconvincing smile.
“Look, I just wanted to check Giselle got home okay last night,” Kett said, trying not to smile, “but clearly it’s a moot point. See you at breakfast.”
She nodded to them both and turned to go, and Tane said, “Wait.”
She turned back, brows raised.
“Listen, Willifus is a cock and we all hate him, but his father’s really important in Elvyrn politics and-”
“Tane, you know nothing bores me as much as politics,” Kett said. “Well, maybe shopping.”
Giselle looked aghast but Tane patted her hand and said, “The thing is, we had to invite him. And now Lord d’Athinisha’s going to be absolutely incandescent that someone beat up his beloved son…”
“But I’m going to talk to Dad and to Uncle Talis, tell them why you did it.”
“I don’t reckon Talis is particularly on my side,” Kett said, wincing as she recalled a couple of instances in her youth when she’d set out to humiliate the king just because she could. Her father hadn’t protected her then. No one had.
“Are you kidding? Kett, you remember the queen, right? She was a bloody lunatic, everyone says, but he adored her. Can’t stand vapid women, Dad always says. He thinks you’re brilliant.”
“The king thinks I’m brilliant,” Kett said flatly, not believing it for a second.
“He’ll think you’re even more brilliant when I tell him you saved Giselle’s life.”
“I really don’t think they were gonna kill her,” Kett said, flustered.
“They weren’t inviting me to a tea party either,” Giselle said. Her eyes were huge and solemn as she regarded Kett. “Kett, I…”
Kett shrugged, embarrassed.
“I wish I was as brave as you,” Giselle said.
“Yeah, well. There’s a thin line between being brave and being a bloody idiot,” Kett said. “Get Tane to teach you how to defend yourself, yeah?”
She backed out, feeling awkward, and walked past Eithne’s room. Her sharp hearing picked up a male voice from within.
Kett smiled, wondering if her father knew that only one of his offspring had spent the night alone.
Although she wouldn’t put it past Beyla to have hidden a man in the wardrobe.
Passing a window, she caught sight of the snowy garden and decided to change her shape inside, before the cold air froze her bare skin. She rolled her clothes into a bundle and changed into a large dog with thick fur, and was almost to the stairs when Bael’s scent came to her. It was an intriguing mix of candied fruits, molten metal and winter ice. Hurriedly, she dropped her clothes and shoved them under a nearby table, then wagged her tail cheerfully as he rounded the corner.
Bael made that clicking noise people make with dogs, and she trotted over happily.
“Hey, Kett,” he said, and she froze for a second, horrified. How did he
